Ghostly Justice (Seven Deadly Sins, #2.5)(35)

“—see that? Hell yes.”

The ghost manifested itself into a pale, transparent image of his human body. He wore dark slacks, a light colored button-down shirt and had a small red hole in the middle of his forehead.

“Nichols,” Rafe whispered.

The showroom was so cold they could see their breath.

“He knows we’re here,” Moira said. “Ready?”

Rafe launched into an exorcism Moira hadn’t heard before. Though not always effective on ghosts, a traditional exorcism could interrupt malevolent activity long enough to find a more permanent way to get rid of the spirit. Destroying their human remains was still the single most effective way of banishing a ghost.

But since cell phones weren’t working, Moira couldn’t very well call the coroner and ask him to torch Nichols’ body.

Moira kept her eyes on the ghost. The exorcism impacted him only slightly—he wavered in form, then took shape again.

Rafe paused, and Moira said, “Let me try—”

Before she could start an alternative exorcism, a chair flew across the showroom and hit the wall right next to her head.

Nichols disappeared, but the cold remained.

“Moira—” Rafe took her hand and they started to move slowly back toward the break room.

A small table flew at them and they ducked.

“There!” Moira pointed to Nichols who was partially visible only feet from Rafe.

Rafe lunged toward the apparition with his dagger to disperse the energy. The ghost flickered and disappeared.

“Get him?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

A coat rack hit Moira in the head and she stumbled to her knees, grabbing a table to prevent her from falling over.

“Are you okay?” Rafe sounded both in control and panicked at the same time, if that were possible.

“I’m okay.” Damn, that hurt. She rubbed the side of her neck. She’d been beaten up during her training at Olivet, but nothing like this. “I swear, I wish it was a demon. They are more predictable than that damn ghost.”

“Demons aren’t invisible,” Rafe said. “They can’t waver in and out of sight like ghosts. But ghosts can’t drag you to hell.”

“Oh, joy, that’s certainly looking on the bright side.”

Rafe rubbed the back of her neck. “You have your gun?”

“Of course.”

“See if you can crack the window, weaken it then we might be able to push out the glass.”

“What about the exorcism?”

“I don’t know that it’s going to work fast enough, and it’s not going to stop him forever. I wish we could get a message to Anthony to burn Nichols’ body, but we’ll just have to find a way to get out of here first, then deal with the spirit. I don’t like leaving Skye alone with that other cop—I don’t think he’s a hundred percent stable right now.”

“Skye said she’s known David her entire life or close to it. She would have let us know if she felt threatened.”

“It was his reaction to the reenactment. He’s angry and depressed. Not a good combination.”

“Okay, escape is always a good option. Live to fight another day.”

“And,” Rafe continued, “I think the ghost hates you. He threw those things at you, not me.”

“Just lucky I guess.”

“It’s because you’re a woman. Do you remember what Skye said after Nichols went postal last week? He blamed his boss—Grace Chin—for sleeping her way to the top.”

“That puts Skye in danger too,” Moira said, pocketing her dagger and taking out her gun. “Female sheriff in a small town.”

She shot at the window.

Teeny crack. She fired again, but this time the bullet was diverted and nearly hit Rafe. Her heart quickened and she pocketed her gun.

“Plan B.”

“I don’t have a Plan B.”

“Maybe a Plan C?”

Nichols manifested in the corner of the room. Heavier pieces of furniture moved toward them. Slower than the smaller pieces, which gave them a slight edge.

“If I can make him retreat, it might loosen his hold on the doors,” Rafe said.

“Go for it. I’ll be bait, since he seems to really hate me.” She moved away from a buffet that looked like it was about to crush her. “And I’ve never met the guy.”

“Just don’t get yourself killed, okay?”

“I’ll do my best.”

Rafe ran along the perimeter of the showroom, toward the apparition, and Moira waved her arms to distract the ghost. “Hey, Nichols! You’re dead! It’s time to move on. I know, you’re probably freaked out because after killing three people in cold blood you didn’t get much chance to say I’m sorry before wham, bam, thank you SWAT.”

The ghost moved toward her, and Rafe lunged for it, slicing the apparition with the iron handle of his dagger. It disappeared.

“Let’s go,” he said, working his way back over to Moira. “Did you have to antagonize the ghost?”

“It worked.”

“I don’t know whether to kiss you or lecture you.”

“If you haven’t guessed, I really hate lectures.”